


Walk With You

by demonicdestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Artist Dean, Creature Castiel, M/M, creature cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonicdestiel/pseuds/demonicdestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's family is killed when he is a child, and his aunt Elaina takes him in, teaching him everything she knows about hunting. While on a job, Dean runs into Castiel, a mysterious man who appears to have no family, no belongings and no home. Will Dean end up shutting Cas out, or will he learn that not all things supernatural are bad?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, decided to upload some of my older work just for the hell of it. Probably add a couple more chapters to this one if you guys like it. ;)

There was a heavy,  _thunk_  as metal struck bone, accompanied by an agonized scream of pain. Dean yanked his sword out of his enemy, the bloody silver glinting in the light of the full moon. "One down, two to go..." He left the man and ran stealthily through the forest, ducking around the ancient trees. He realized his breathing would give him away if the creatures were near, but the exhilaration of the hunt was getting to him, and he couldn't help but grin at the thought of slitting the others' throats. He had waited far too long for this moment.

The snap of a branch alerted him to the presence of his prey, and he tightened the grip on his sword, readying himself for another attack. He listened carefully, waiting for the monster to come close enough.

_Snap_. Another branch cracked, this time though, it was close, and Dean leapt out from his hiding spot and tackled the woman, driving his blade deep into her skull. She snarled and thrashed about, gnashing her teeth until finally, she too lay silent and still. Dean stood and wiped his two handed silver sword on his pants, still listening for any sign of the last beast.

In his peripheral vision he caught a sudden blur of movement, and he wasted no time in chasing after it. "Come back here you son of a bitch!" He yelled, spotting the man again. Dean ran at him, raising his sword above his head, ready to strike down, when he noticed that the man was cowering in fear on the ground, not making any attempt to fight back. He was dressed in a worn leather jerkin and shredded, bloodstained shirt and pants; not the typical werewolf attire. "Who are you?" Dean inquired, the grip on the hilt of his sword loosening slightly.

"P-Please don't... Don't kill me!" The man opened one eye and looked up at Dean pleadingly. Even in the darkness, it was clear that the man's teeth were human.

Sheathing his sword, Dean held out his hand tentatively. "Do you have a death wish? No one should be out here after dark. Go home." The man grabbed on to his wrist and Dean pulled him up.

"I don't have a home." He said quietly, staring into Dean's emerald eyes. He had a long jagged scar that ran from his hairline, across his right eye, ending just before his nose. It appeared as if something had raked its claws across his face.

Dean pursed his lips and ran a hand through his long hair. "Then I'll bring you back to the village. They'll know what to do with you." He pulled his travelling cloak off his shoulders and handed it to the man, "What's your name?"

"Castiel." He breathed, looking around, rightfully worried something would come out of the bush and attack him.

Dean nodded, waiting until Castiel slung the cloak around his shoulders. "Well Castiel, I hope you're proficient with a weapon, because there's a werewolf that's hunting me, and I've been sent out here to kill it." He drew a slim silver rapier from his belt and passed it to Castiel, hilt first. "And truthfully, I could use some more help."

Castiel eyed the blade nervously. "You're trusting me with a weapon? What if I turned on you?" He looked up at Dean, his one good eye catching the reflected silvery light of the sword.

"For some odd reason I just know you aren't the traitorous type. Now come on, the longer we stand here talking, the longer that bastard has to ready an attack." As soon as Castiel had taken the blade, Dean unsheathed his broadsword and continued along the path through the trees.

Castiel followed behind Dean, his breathing loud and heavy. He held his rapier at his hip, two hands on the hilt.  _'What have I gotten myself into...?'_  He thought, pulling the borrowed cloak closer around himself.

A woman's scream cut through the silence, and Dean broke out in a run. "Elaina!" He shouted, desperately straining his eyes in the darkness. His gaze fell upon a dark figure leaning against the trunk of a tree and he rushed over, kneeling down beside the girl and grabbing her shoulder. "Are you..." He trailed off, pulling his hand away.

Dean felt the blood dripping down his fingers. "They got me... Dean please... Kill me..." He shook his head, in complete shock.

"I can't." He croaked, laying his sword down on the forest floor. "I can't kill you..."

"You have to..." Elaina whispered, "Remember what I taught you. I would rather die a human than live as a beast, Dean. Kill me..." She placed a soft, reassuring hand on his cheek, smearing it with blood.

Dean's vision was beginning to blur. "No I can't! I refuse! Don't make me do this... You know I could never- NO!" He screamed, watching in horror as his aunt plunged the blade into her heart.

She didn't cry out, only gave a weak smile and whispered, "Remember... What I..." Elaina's voice trailed off and her hand dropped to the ground.

In a sudden fit of rage, Dean threw his shield at a tree, where it embedded itself into the thick bark. He screamed at the top of his lungs, unintelligent and grief-filled. As he ploughed through the forest, running as fast as his feet could carry him, he felt hot, angry tears carving tracks down his dirt covered face. He didn't care anymore. He had only one thought on his mind now.

Dean heard footsteps behind him and hurled a dagger at the approximate location. He swirled around just in time to see the last werewolf being pinned to a tree by his forearm, the dagger shooting straight through his flesh. The wolf man howled in pain and tried to yank the blade free, but Dean was already rushing forward, sword in hand, pointed directly at his heart. He felt a surge of anger as he noticed the blood around the man's face; this had been the one that turned Elaina.

His blade impaled the beast, killing it instantly; the silver sword sharp as ever. Dean pushed the corpse off the end of the sword with his foot, and stabbed over and over, taking out his anger, his guilt and his pain on the dead werewolf. He knew it wouldn't do any good, and unfortunately it didn't make him feel any better, but he just kept stabbing the body, watching the blood spurt from the mangled remains.

Someone put their hand on his shoulder, but he continued on, ignoring it. It was only when Castiel grabbed his arm and pulled the sword from him did he turn and growl, "Leave me alone. I've finished my task; Just let me die..." He wiped his eyes, finally noticing that Castiel had carried Elaina's body with him, along with Dean's ruined shield.

"You said you'd bring me to the village, and we can't just leave her out here..." Castiel nodded towards Elaina's lifeless form. "Come on, you've gotten your revenge; he's dead. And... I'm sure she would have wanted you to keep living..."

"You know nothing about her," Dean snarled, pulling his arm out of Castiel's grip. "I should have died in her place... She was a good woman, she didn't deserve to die." He took his sword back from Castiel and drove it heavily through the werewolf's skull one last time before wiping the blood off on the grass. Dean let out a shaky sigh and stood up, not able to meet Castiel's gaze.

Picking up Elaina carefully, Castiel turned to Dean, "Lead the way." He said somberly, letting Dean take the lead again. The two were silent walking back to the village, neither tried to initiate conversation, and Castiel knew Dean was not in any mood to talk anyways.

They got to the gates at around midnight, but as soon as the gatekeeper spotted them, he yelled down, "Ho, who goes there! Sir Dean? Is that you?" Castiel could see the man lean down from his perch, squinting at them curiously. "Who's with you?"

Dean glanced over at Castiel, then replied, "I found him while on a hunt. His name is Castiel. Gadreel, please just let us in." His gaze fell to Elaina's torn up face and he inhaled sharply, his lips pursed.

"Fine! But if he turns out to be a creature, you'll be the one with blood on your hands!" He disappeared behind the wall again, and the heavy gate began to crank open. The grating noise it emitted hurt Castiel's sensitive ears, and he grimaced as he made his way into the village.

Castiel looked up from the dirt path and inhaled sharply. It was a quaint, yet bustling little village, even that late at night. Candle lit houses lined the streets, silhouettes of their inhabitants being cast onto the thin curtains. It overwhelmed Castiel, but at the same time, he felt excited and privileged to be in such a place.

"You haven't got anywhere to stay, right?" Dean asked quietly when they were out of earshot of the gatekeeper. He stopped when they got to the last house on the street - which was far removed from the rest of the village - and motioned for Castiel to follow him. "We need to give her a hunter's funeral, first and foremost... Set her down here."

He tossed a burlap bag to Castiel. "Hold that for me... We'll need it in a minute." His expression was grim as he began to place wood in a rectangular formation, large enough to support Elaina's form. When he had finished, Castiel helped him lift her up onto the pile. Dean took the bag back from him with a nod and began to dump the contents of it over Elaina's lifeless body before using his tinderbox to light a fire under the woodpile. Without another word, he walked back towards the house.


	2. Chapter 2

The room brightened as Dean lit candles, and Castiel looked around, after his eyes adjusted. It was a decently sized house, furnished simply with two beds, two chairs and a table. There was a stack of books and papers strewn across the small, round table. Chunks of charcoal were gathered into a pile at the side, and had evidently been used for drawing.

"So what were you doing out in the woods at night anyways?" Dean asked quietly, clearly attempting to get his mind off the death of his aunt. He sat down on one of the beds and took off his boots.

Without a moment's hesitation, Castiel replied, "I've always lived in the woods. As far as I know, I was born out there." He sat down on one of the crudely carved wooden chairs, watching Dean remove at least 15 different blades from the belts around his waist and thigh, a single knife from his boot, and of course, the elegantly lethal silver sword from the sheath strapped to his back. Some of the smaller blades looked as if they were used for throwing, but most were clearly intended for hand to hand combat. Surprisingly he didn't feel anxious in the least; somehow he knew he could trust Dean.

Dean looked up, a curious expression on his face. "You  _lived_  in the woods?"

Castiel nodded. "I haven't had any real problems until tonight. Those werewolves really acted up..." He pulled off the cloak Dean had lent given and threw it back to the hunter.

Dean caught the cloak with one hand, the other working on removing one stubborn dagger out of his belt. "How'd you get the scar?"

There was a clear moment of hesitation before Castiel replied, "Werewolf... I uh, had a run in with that same pack a few months ago and one of them got my eye."

Dean wasn't sure if he believed him, but he nodded anyways. "Why were  _you_  out in the woods at night?" Castiel inquired.

"I'm a hunter," Dean replied, "I get paid to get rid of the things that go bump in the night. Obviously I don't get paid  _enough_ , but whenever there's some kind of threat, I take care of it." He smiled sadly and averted his eyes. "Elaina taught me everything there is to know about the supernatural. Not many people are aware of all the crazy things out there... Anyways, I'm gonna turn in." He lay back on the bed, finally stripped of all his weapons.

There was no reply from Castiel, who had begun to shift through the papers on the table. His fingers quickly became coated in charcoal, and he had to wipe them on his pants before he could accidentally smudge the sketches. Each sketch was dated at the bottom, the oldest he could find going back eight years. Castiel picked up the newest drawing he could find, and studied the intricate lines. When he was younger, he had often tried using charcoal to draw, but it was extremely difficult and he had always ended up getting frustrated, and crumpled up the paper; thus he appreciated the hard work and skill that had gone into this particular drawing. It was a woman's profile, her features sharp and her chin prominent. She was very beautiful. He couldn't help but notice the delicacy Dean had treated the media with, utilizing it to its fullest potential. His shading was so lifelike, that if Castiel held the sketch at arm's length, it was almost as if it could have jumped off the page and come to life. With a sudden pang of sympathy, he recognized the woman as Elaina. He let the paper drop from his hands and looked to Dean, his chest rising and falling slowly as he slept. There was no hint of the pain that he should be feeling at the loss of his aunt; but Castiel had seen him break down in the woods, and he knew this was not just going to be forgotten by the man.

Castiel yawned widely before deciding that he should get some sleep too before the sun rose again.


	3. Chapter 3

Weeks passed without another job, and Dean was starting to run low on money. Castiel adjusted quickly to life in the village, but kept to himself for the most part, only talking to Dean. They had become good friends, and Dean, though he had been having nightmares about his aunt's death, was coping with his loss quite well. There were some times when Castiel would catch him staring at one of the drawings he had done of her, or he would see his face drop if she somehow came up in conversation, but other than that, he seemed to be... Dealing with it.

At the moment, Dean was talking with a woman who was trying to explain what had happened to her while she was working on her farm. She wore her left arm in a sling, and there were numerous visible wounds on her exposed skin. "Something came out of the bush and got my leg," She said, hiking up her dress a little so that a bite mark on her calf was visible. "And pulled me along with it. I don't know why it let go, but by the time it did, I was bruised and bloody."

"Do you remember what he looked like? Maybe his eyes were strange, or...?" Dean trailed off, making fang-like gestures with his fingers. He was clearly convinced that this had been a werewolf attack.

The woman tilted her head to the side, puzzled. "It was a huge black dog... I-I don't know what you mean by..."

Castiel felt his stomach drop.  _It couldn't be…_

Dean glanced over at Castiel, looking to him for an answer. "Why did you come to me then?"

"My cousin told me that if I ever had any problems with strange creatures, I should go to Dean Winchester for help. I believe you helped him with a spirit haunting his barn? Nearly killed you, I hear. Nasty one, that ghost." She wrinkled her nose at the memory.

"Well, there's no harm in checking it out anyways. I'll be down tomorrow." With a wave and a nod from the woman, she was off again. "You coming too, Cas?" Dean asked cheerfully. He seemed to get like that now and again; happy to have another job.

Castiel frowned. "Cas...?"

"Yeah,  _Castiel_  is kind of a mouthful don't you think?" He remarked with a twitch of his lips. "What, you don't like it?"

_Cas_  gave a resigned smile and replied, "I'm just not used to nicknames." He brushed his dark hair over to one side, relieving some of the discomfort from the heat of the sun on his scalp. "Anyways, if we're going on a hunt tomorrow we might as well gather up supplies and such."

"So you're coming?"

"I'm coming."

* * *

Dean never removed his weapons. It made it much easier to defend himself when he had a whole arsenal on him. So when he decided to give Castiel three of his blades, it understandably took him by surprise. "You're going to need weapons if you're going to hunt with me," Dean had said, handing Cas his old broadsword, a slender rapier and a throwing knife. Each blade was polished and sharpened to perfection. "And there aren't many weapons that can match this calibre. Take care of them."

Castiel had accepted them gratefully, thanking Dean over and over again. It also made Dean happy, Castiel noted, to have a sense of purpose; to have someone or some _thing_  to care for and protect.

"Well... I think we've got all the necessary supplies. Shall we start walking?" Castiel asked, sheathing the broadsword in the scabbard strapped to his back.

Dean shot him a funny look. "Walk? Cas, I have a horse. Do you know how far away we are from the next town? It would take us two days to walk there." He chuckled and slung his small pack over his shoulder. "Come with me; I'll show her to you." Castiel was pulled by the wrist out the door, cloaks billowing around behind them.

They ran to the stables, Dean leading like an overexcited child, and opened the rickety wooden doors with a grin at Castiel. "Here she is..." He said as they neared a dappled white mare. "Cas, this is Nami. She's a little old, and we've had our problems, but she's reliable and loyal most of the time." He chuckled and scratched behind her ear, to which she responded to with a snort, nudging Dean's arm with her nose.

Castiel tentatively reached his hand out to mimic Dean's action, but the horse turned her head swiftly and nipped at him, and he pulled his hand back quickly, taking a step backwards. "I don't think she likes me..." He mumbled, not taking his eyes off the creature. He caught Dean stifling a laugh, but his face remained stoic, as he had realized that he would have to ride on the mare's back in minutes. It would likely end up being a very interesting evening...


	4. Chapter 4

They arrived at the farm late in the evening, and the sun had already begun to set, making the fields of wheat appear to be on fire. It was eerily quiet, with no sign of anyone living on the property. Dean felt the urge to call out for anyone who might have been there, but decided against it when Castiel grabbed his shoulder. "I feel like something is wrong, Dean. I think the creature that woman was describing may be here now..." He was right; there was definitely something off about this place.

A blur of movement caught the corner of his eye, and he dismounted his horse quickly. "Wait, Dean!" Castiel yelled, not wanting to be left alone; especially not atop the mare that hated him.

"I'll only be a minute Cas!" Dean called back, drawing his silver broadsword and rushing into the woods. It became harder and harder to see with every step the hunter took, but he strained his eyes as much as he could, and kept going.

Finally, he came across a lone woman, standing in the middle of a clearing. It was strange, Dean thought, but she looked almost like an animal of some kind. "Dean Winchester." The woman snarled. "I've been waiting for you."

They began to circle each other slowly, the strange woman growling deep in her throat. "Obviously I've been sent to kill you... But, first, I think I'm going to have a little fun with my food." She threw herself at Dean, grabbing onto the hilt of his sword and yanking it from his hands. He tried to draw another of his knives, but she kept a firm grip on his wrists. "We don't want those getting in the way..." She whispered, pinning him down on the ground, straddling his torso. Her knees dug into Dean's arms, and he grimaced. The woman tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled, forcing him to look at her.

She now wore a feral grin, clearly enjoying this too much. "Should I snap your neck? Or maybe just break every bone in your body slowly...?" The woman put all of her weight onto Dean's shoulder, and he cried out in pain, feeling something pop out-of-place. He heard a high-pitched laughter ring out in the darkness, and suppressed his shiver. "You'll be a spineless sack of meat when I'm finished; Oh wait... You already are!" Again the peals of laughter came, tearing apart his nerves.

" _ **CAS!**_ " He shouted, his voice wobbling just slightly. He shut his eyes, determined not to look into the burning yellow jewels that shone down on him. This woman was _not_ someone to mess with, clearly, and that had him scared. He needed backup right away. His call for help had only made the psychopath laugh harder. She bowed her head into her chest, greasy, tangled black hair falling onto Dean's face.

Another sickening crunch accompanied Dean's scream of agony as he felt his little finger fracturing beneath her knee. "You brought someone with you? How adorable! I'm going to skin them alive while you watch; just for the hell of it." Her cracked lips pulled up into a wicked smile. "Who is it, your girlfriend maybe? A replacement for that bitch Elaina? I heard what happened to her you know." She brought her mouth close to Dean's ear and whispered, "I wish I could've done it myself... I would have made sure she suffered first."

Rage bubbled in Dean's chest at her words. "Shut the fuck up." He said through gritted teeth, fists balling.

"Have I made you mad, hunter? Beca-" She stopped mid-sentence and snapped her eyes to the left, out of Dean's field of view. Her breathing became fast, and she suddenly looked panicked. "Oh no..."

A massive, shaggy brown dog launched itself over Dean's head and attacked the woman, ripping apart her shoulder with vice-like jaws. Dean watched as her body twisted and changed its shape until there were two canines biting and scratching at each other, their coats becoming matted with blood and dirt. Dean lost track of which dog had been the one to attack first, and he was seriously unsure what to do.

An agonized yelp was issued from one of the dogs; the smaller, brown one, Dean realized now. The dog who had initiated the fight. Its opponent had clamped down on its shoulder, and blood had begun spurting from the wound. It recoiled and fell to the ground, panting heavily. The black beast threw the injured dog away with an unnatural amount of strength, and stood victorious over him. He snarled and pressed his humongous paw atop his opponent's neck, the poor dog whining as his throat collapsed. Dean realized that he had to act quickly, so with a swift flick of his wrist, feeling pain shoot through his arm, he flung his knife at the larger dog, where it stuck into its side with a dull _thud_.

The dog let out an ear-splitting howl of pain, took one last snarling look at Dean, and ran off into the woods again. Dean crawled over to the remaining dog, wondering what drove it to attack the other canine. Its breathing came in short, ragged gasps, and Dean could see just how badly injured he had been. The dog's chestnut-brown fur was stained dark crimson; the amount of blood that had already gushed from the wound was too much. Dean placed his hand on the dog's leg cautiously, and when it didn't resist, he tore a strip from the bottom of his cloak and wrapped it around the dog's wound. It whined and growled as he worked to stanch the bleeding, but was strangely cooperative otherwise. Dean had no idea why he felt compelled to help the creature, but he felt a bizarre sort of connection with it.

The hunter finished with the dog's wounds and popped his shoulder back into its socket, groaning in pain. When he next looked up, vision cloudy with tears, he saw a hand reaching towards him, desperate and shaking. "Cas...!" He breathed, wiping his eyes hastily. Castiel's normally bright blue gemstone eyes were dull and pain-filled. Dean scrambled to his side, wrapping what was left of his traveling cloak around Castiel's naked form. Cas tried to lift himself from the ground, but came crashing down on his stomach when his arm gave out. He slapped a hand to his shoulder, which had begun bleeding again with the strain he'd put on it.

"D-Dean... I... Didn't want you to see me like this..." Castiel whispered, his voice cracking. "I'm sorry... Should've told you earlier..." His voice was quiet, his eyes beginning to droop shut.

Dean put a hand beneath his chin and tilted it upwards so that Castiel's icy blue eyes met his own emerald coloured ones. "Listen to me, Cas. You saved me. I would've died if it weren't for you." He moved closer so that he could pull the injured man into his lap. "We'll talk about this when you're- Cas...?" His voice held a hint of panic. Castiel's eyes had fluttered shut and his face had relaxed. The hunter carefully put two fingers against his wrist, relieved when he felt a pulse.

He removed his tunic, leaving only the chain mail and undershirt, and covered Castiel with it. The garment reached his knees, effectively covering the whole of his exposed torso. He looked around to see if there was any immediate threat that would require him to engage in another fight, then sheathed his blades and returned to Castiel. Dean lifted him up gently and carried him through the trees, wondering what they had just fought off... And what the creature he now carried in his arms truly was.


	5. Chapter 5

When Castiel finally woke up a day later, he found himself in his own bed, covered with layers of blankets. He yawned and blinked his eyes groggily. The house smelled like freshly baked bread. "Dean...?" He called, looking around through half lidded eyes.

There was no answer, so Castiel tried to get up, but found himself unable to move. His wrists were bound with a strong braided rope, tied tightly together with multiple complex knots. There was no way he'd be able to slip them. Cas called for Dean again, this time, panic seeping into his voice.

The door swung inwards, and Dean poked his head in, his face falling. "Cas... You're awake..." He closed the door behind him with his foot, Castiel noticing the plates of food in his hands. "I guess you're probably hungry, huh?"

He nodded as best he could while still lying on his back. Dean set the plates down on the table and went to help Castiel out of bed. He pulled him up by his shoulders, then waited until he was sure Cas was able to stand by himself. "Jody made dinner... She, uh, said she had a little extra, so..." His body language clearly conveyed his anxiety.

"Did you tie me up because you saw me as a threat, Dean?" Cas asked quietly, avoiding looking at the hunter. He sat down heavily on one of the wooden chairs, unable to stand any longer due to his injuries. "I sincerely hope that's not the reason you're holding that knife behind your back..."

Dean let his hand drop to his side, knife falling out of his sleeve. "Cas, I-"

"Did I hurt you while I was shifted? I didn't bite you, did I?" His voice held so many emotions, Dean could feel his own heart ache for him. He couldn't tell him the truth...

He shook his head slowly. "Cas you were unconscious pretty much the whole way back." It wasn't a lie; Castiel had only woken up once on the way home; but that single time he had woken up, he'd accidentally shifted while on Nami, which startled her enough to buck the two off of her back. It had broken Dean's arm, but Cas, who had changed back to his human form mid-fall, had gotten the worst of it, hitting his head on the ground hard enough to knock him out cold. Clearly he hadn't remembered the incident, which may have been better for him anyways.

Dean sat down in the other chair, analyzing Castiel's strange expression. "Then why were you so cautious, Dean? Why bind my wrists? _Why did you have a knife?_ " He looked up, his sapphire eyes shining with tears. "Were you prepared to kill me...?"

There was a glint of polished steel as Dean thrust the blade towards Castiel. He closed his eyes, preparing for the worst, but the pain never came. "I had it for the off chance I'd need to use it." Dean said quietly. Looking down at his hands, Cas saw that his bonds had been cut. "Now eat." Dean urged, motioning towards the hot meal in front of them.

Castiel put a spoonful of soup in his mouth, still unable to fully meet his eyes. "I'm assuming you'd like to know what kind of freak I am..." He mumbled, twirling the spoon between his fingers.

"I'm curious, yes. But I won't push you. I trust you, Cas; enough to bring you back here, enough to cut your bonds, and enough to know that you wouldn't kill me when my back's turned. I don't trust many people, but there are a few exceptions." His eyes flicked up to Cas, and he rubbed his hands together awkwardly under the table. It had always been excruciatingly hard for Dean to talk about his own feelings. He just couldn't seem to put them into words. He waited a few seconds before adding softly, "And... You aren't the only freak here..."

Castiel inhaled shakily, stirring his soup absently. "I'll... I'm going to trust you too, then..." He closed his eyes briefly, then said quietly, "I'm... A skinwalker..." His lips pursed, and he waited for a reaction with bated breath.

"A... _Skinwalker_...?" Dean repeated, tilting his head slightly. He lifted another spoonful of soup to his mouth.

"Yes, I was bitten as a child, and a pack of them took me in, raised me, gave me a family..." He pulled down the waistband of his pants just slightly, to show a faint scar on his hip. It looked like it had been an extremely painful bite wound when it was fresh, though Dean knew it went deeper than just his skin. "I spent the first few years of my childhood watching my real family work hard, trying to copy them and such... Of course, I was never able to do any real physical labour before I was taken by the pack leader. She came to me, told me of the things outside of the boundaries of our property. She promised me great things, and I went with her... I was seven."

Dean looked up sombrely, this time, their eyes meeting in a clash of vivid green and blue. "Did you ever manage to find out where your family was?" It was unusual for him to act so open with others; Castiel was surprised he was even capable of such serious conversation. "Your real family?"

Shaking his head, Castiel replied, "No. By the time I insisted on going home, the pack had already killed my family. I assume that's their way of forcing newly bitten members to cooperate and join their 'family' instead." He swirled his spoon around the bowl rhythmically, his eyes distant, and brow furrowed.

Dean was speechless. He knew too well, the feeling of having your whole family suddenly ripped from you. That was why Elaina had adopted him in the first place...

"Dean?" Cas' voice broke through the wall of memories, and he looked up, feeling an immense amount of sympathy for the man across from him. "You alright...?"

"Yeah." He replied, bringing his gaze down to the tabletop again.

Castiel watched Dean's hands shaking as the hunter brought another spoonful of soup to his mouth. "Well come on, I think I deserve a little bit of backstory from you too. Tell me what happened." His voice was soft, and Dean could hear his lack of self confidence seeping into the tone. His request had come out to sound more like a plea for backup.

There was a definite hesitation as Dean started, steepling his fingers and leaning his forehead against them. "Well..." He started, clearing his throat, "My parents... They insisted on living inside town walls. It was 'peaceful, safe and convenient', apparently. But... There was a fire while I was out getting water. The whole town went up in flames... There was such an intense heat, and the sounds that came from inside the inferno..." He trailed off, emerald eyes brimming with tears. "I uh... Ran into the town and tried to find my family... But our house had already collapsed; all that was left was a pile of burning logs. I screamed and cried for my parents, but the only ones I knew who'd got out alive were my two brothers, Adam and Sam, and my aunt Elaina. So she took us in... If I... If I hadn't gone away from the house that day..."

Castiel stood up suddenly, then pulled Dean into a tight hug. It was ridiculously satisfying for the both of them to get everything off their chests. "It's not your fault, Dean..." Cas murmured into Dean's shoulder, "You couldn't have done anything to stop it anyways. Don't be so hard on yourself..."

As he pulled away, Dean wiped his eyes and said with a small, sad smile, "No I guess not... You know, I understand now, why I've always felt a sort of... Special bond with you. Maybe it's because we have similar pasts..." He shook his head and added quietly. "I want to know everything about being a skinwalker... And don't leave anything out; what's it like...?"

Cas gave Dean a lopsided smile. "You better get comfortable."


End file.
